the wrong question

a ride, a fantasy, a good time for what it is worth, but what is it worth really when the narration changes as perspectives glide from white, gray then black because a person moves in with colors first touching skin, then sinking deeper into flesh, mind, heart: the kernel, the core, the visuals remain the same, water continues to swirl about: vibrant, dangerous, calm and yet something has changed, evolved when the beholder turns inwards, fire fizzles out from a lack of oxygen, dear air contained in this room suffocating! chains tugs at skin, flesh, the mind replays the senses as a fairy tale. the coldness inside begins to color the outside, visuals dismal, gray, unbecoming - lacking. what? hard to tell since the narration has stopped, the heart barely beats yet music echoes, like yesterday's longings - quietly departing without protest. why protest? a numbing sensation though the smiles on the external continue to plaster around, nothing has changed as far as pony rides and narration goes for salespeople always give a winning pitch. sounds fair, sounds logical, sounds mathematically correct though the insides register not, blaring lights blind sight, glaring, uncommon sense guts the heart. a falling leaf decays, the earth recycles energy, the soul none for the ride, the fantasy, the cotton candy dulled a blade, a fire, cold ashes refuses to be heated. the pitch went on, the go getters, the vibrant swirls of rainbow promises churned out in factory made processes to pump the numbers, to goad the passerby pausing: gently noting the falling leaf already turned brown, hesitates, uncertainty reflects in his eyes, a dopamine pump, a plausible tale, an adventure into? a journey of transformation of a lifetime, everything went accordingly to the contract, all points covered with one slight twist. when eyes dim, when skin wrinkles, when hair turns white, when flesh shrinks, when brain becomes foggy, when the outside fails to register a response. code red, code red, code red. the temple is empty, the gods have fled, the soul stares back at nothing. shrunken, defeated, lifeless, the money god, the earthly god, the story cracks as a temple devours itself. how? and a faithful servant sees his god for the first time when the outside goes into an eclipse. then the salesman showed his face, his identity becomes known, and he was everything the man lived his life for.